


A Colonel, an Archeologist and a Jaffa Walk Into a Bar...

by Redbyrd



Series: Footsoldiers [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s01e14 Hathor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-01
Updated: 2005-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redbyrd/pseuds/Redbyrd
Summary: After surviving their first SGC crisis, Mario and Stan head out for a much needed drink.
Series: Footsoldiers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086653
Kudos: 2





	A Colonel, an Archeologist and a Jaffa Walk Into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> This series was a collaboration with dietcokechic- I've loved her outside-looking-in tales since I've first read them. I was delighted when she suggested collaborating on this little series starring the beleagered security personnel of the SGC. We had a lot of fun with the idea. If you'd like to read more of her work, some of her stories are on AO3 as part of the Stargatefan archive, and also here: http://www.dietcokechic.com/stargate/

DISCLAIMER:  
The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.  
\-------------------------------

"Well, that was interesting," Stan said, as he unbuttoned his fatigues and pulled on a clean white tee-shirt.

"You call being quarantined with seventy-three other men, interesting?" Mario scoffed as he vigorously toweled his hair. Stan might not have wanted a shower, but he sure as hell did.

"Well, you haffta admit, we sure did pick up a lot of SGC gossip." Stan remarked. It had been quite interesting being a proverbial fly on the wall surrounded by seasoned Stargate Command personnel. After they had cleaned up after Hathor, the chaotic logistics of getting everyone (well the men anyhow) quarantined had commenced. The base was too small to have completely separate quarantine quarters, so the officers and enlisted men had to share communal facilities like the showers and mess hall. Oh, the officers still had separate bunks, but with eight to a room, the guys needed to blow off steam every now and then..Anyone who wanted to could head to the gym to spar or what have you.

There were quite a few men who felt the need to beat the living shit out of things.

"I'm just thankful we didn't have to stay in here longer than 48 hours."

"So..," Stan asked casually, looking at his friend with twinkling eyes, "did you get her phone number?" Mario visibly stiffened and looked around the locker room to see who else might be listening.

"Keep your damn voice down!" Mario replied. "You never know who might be listening..." Stan laughed.

"Mario, my man - the whole damn base knows about how she watched Captain Carter knock your lights out!"

"Hey, at least I didn't kiss the base's **doctor**!" Mario replied hotly. Stan paled at the memory. Oh, the _memory_ of the kiss was just fine, but not only was he married (happily he might add) but the woman he kissed just happen to have a wide array of needles and assorted medical devices as her disposal. Stan shuddered remembering how she snapped on those gloves to examine him. Luckily, it had mostly been to scare him - turns out you really do need two hands to do a medical examination.

"Are you done yet?" Mario asked, desperate to get out of there.

"Done!" Stan replied, tying his shoe and standing up. "Where to?"

"I know the perfect place."

#

 _"This_ is your perfect place?" Stan asked dubiously as he took in the smoky ambience of the bar.

"Yup," Mario confirmed, holding up two fingers to indicate to the bartender that he needed two beers. He was way too thirsty to be picky. Oh sure, Colorado Springs had its share of new-agey "brew-pubs" like those in Boulder and Denver, but this place specialized in good ol American brews: Budweiser, Coors, and Michelob.

"It's a little..." Stan paused searching for the perfect word. "-seedy, isn't it?"

Mario scoffed. "Mano," we totally need seedy after the last couple of days."

The beer arrived and wordlessly the two men held up their glasses in recognition of surviving their first few days. Each drained nearly half the glass before setting it down on the bar.

"Best damn beer I've ever had," Mario declared reverently.

"Amen to that," Stan agreed, raising his glass in tribute. They sat for several minutes in companionable silence watching the "normal" people eat and drink.

"It's pretty crazy, isn't it?" Mario said after a few minutes.

"Yeah," Stan said nodding. Both knew what the other was talking about -their crazy ass jobs. I mean, here they were, downing a couple of brewskis after work like any old guys, while they spent their days on the front line of a war none of these people knew about.

"Figured out what you're going to tell Margie yet?" Mario asked. He knew Stan had been beating himself up over kissing Frasier, not to mention completely forgetting he had a wife, and then to call home and say he needed to stay at work for another three days-well, it sure sounded like a weak-ass excuse.

"The truth," Stan said with a sigh.

"The what?!" Mario shouted, nearly spraying his friend with Bud. Stan burst out laughing at the look on Mario's face.

"Not _that_ much truth, idiot!" He shook his head and ordered two more beers. "I called on Wednesday and told her that bullshit excuse about a chemical leak that all of us had to use. If she asks for details, I'll just tell her that my new job is secretive as all get out, but that I love her to pieces and would she please come over and allow me to take all her clothes off?" Now it was Mario's turn to laugh.

"And that works?" he asked skeptically.

"Married life rocks, man," Stan affirmed with a nod. He knew he'd be getting lucky that night.

"Quit rubbing it in," Mario said morosely. "Tonight it's just going to be me and my.." his voice trailed off as he saw who just walked through the front door.

Stan followed his gaze. "Hey, isn't that-uh," he looked around to make sure that there wasn't anyone within earshot and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, _"the alien?1"_ The enormous guy was wearing a hat covering his bald head and tattoo, and he towered over his shorter comrades.

"And Colonel O'Neill," Mario said, pulling a little further back into the shadows.

"And whatsisname, Dr., uh, Jackson," Stan added. "I wonder what they're doing here?"

"Getting a drink," Mario said. They watched O'Neill say something to Jackson and then he and the huge alien dude went over to the bar, while Jackson came toward them, looking for a table.

"I heard he actually, uh, you know, with Hathor," Stan said, making rather obscene hand gestures while looking at the shabbily dressed civilian. They watched him pull out chair at an empty table in the back and sit down, elbows on the table, shoulders slumped. He picked up a salt shaker from the center of the table and turned it around in his hand.

"He sure doesn't look like a guy who got laid," Mario said, eyeing the miserable looking doctor. He stared off into space and looked for all the world like he wished he were somewhere else.

Stan frowned as one of the guys from the pool table approached the oblivious civilian. He nudged Mario and pointed, "I don't like the look of that guy."

The tough-looking man in the plaid shirt had the look of a truck driver. "Hey, asshole," he said, jostling Jackson hard.

"Whaa-?" The guy looked up with a mildly puzzled expression.

"You gonna hog that whole table by yourself when you ain't even drinking?"

"I'm saving it for my friends," Jackson explained politely, with an explanatory wave in the direction of the bar.

Two more guys came up carrying glasses of beer. "Ooh, he's _saving_ it for his _friends_ ," one of them repeated. The others laughed like he said something funny.

"There's plenty of space," Jackson said mildly.

"I like this one," the guy said. He jerked a thumb at the seated man. "Move it."

"Uh, oh," Mario said, observing the rapidly deteriorating situation.

"He'll move," Stan insisted. "He's just a civvie, after all."

"Actually, mano, I don't think so," Mario told him. He could see Jackson's face, and he was wearing an expression that could only be described as mulish. He guessed after being screwed (both figuratively and actually) by Hathor, he really wasn't in the mood to get pushed around.

The other men circled him, and a couple of the more alert bystanders backed off to give them space. "You think we should do something?" Stan asked uneasily.

"Not unless they've got another three or four guys in reserve," Mario said as he looked toward the bar. Mario had never seen anyone move as quick or as quiet as the alien. One minute the trucker was reaching for Jackson's collar, the next minute he was being yanked off his feet by the massive arm that snaked around his throat. The buddy that started to come to his defense, suddenly mashed his face into the table as O'Neill appeared behind him, twisting his arm up into a particularly painful lock.

Jackson hadn't moved. "My friends," he repeated in a calm voice, looking at the first bully. "Why don't you try another table?"

"You do not wish me to break this one's neck, DanielJackson?" Teal'c enquired, sounding disappointed.

"No, Teal'c," O'Neill said. "He's about to go find somewhere else to sit. Right?" 'Right' was not said in the kindest of ways.

The first guy looked past his two friends and made eye contact with another group of guys at the bar. Guys who apparently liked steroids just as much as beer.

"Uh oh," Stan said quietly. "I think the odds just changed." They watched as three more stood up and walked casually over to where Dr. Jackson sat.

"Should we help now?" Mario asked.

"Let's see what happens," Stan answered. There was no way they were going to let any of "their" guys get pummeled, but after hearing just a couple SG-1 stories, Stan kinda wondered if these guys would actually need any help.

"You really don't want to do this," O'Neill said shaking his head as the three new men joined the scene. "You see, we just had a _really_ bad couple of days...,"

"Some worse than others," Jackson added.

"Exactly," O'Neill said acknowledging his academic, before turning back towards the thugs. " _Really_ bad couple of days, and you really don't want to piss us off."

"I am already 'pissed off' O'Neill," the alien said menacingly as he took a step closer to the guy who had first threatened Jackson.

"You know, if these guys even knew a fraction of what we did, they'd be shaking in their boots right now," Stan whispered.

"You got that right," Mario said nodding.

"See, you don't want to get Teal'c mad at you, it really isn't a whole lot of fun," O'Neill said matter-of-factly.

"We outnumber you," the main thug said.

"Oooh, you can count!" Jackson replied, standing up from where he was sitting. Guess he was tired of being the only man sitting.

"Daniel, you stole my line!" O'Neill said with a smile.

"It was bound to happen sometime, Jack." The tension in the bar was palpable and most of the patrons had stopped talking in order to watch the live entertainment. Next to them, Mario heard one guy murmur, "Ten bucks on the big black guy."

Before anything more could happen, a short guy came running out of a door that Stan swore was just a closet and started shouting, "No fighting, no fighting!"

"We're not fighting," O'Neill said casually.

"Yet," Jackson added.

"T' and I have it, Daniel," O'Neill said as the short guy tried to reason with the six thugs.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking a punch, Jack!" Jackson said petulantly.

"Taking a punch' means getting hit, Daniel. I don't think that's what you want to do in this case. You remember what I told you about blocking?"

"You know what I mean!" Daniel cried. Poor kid, Stan observed. He seriously needed to kick some ass.

"Daniel, two weeks ago you were declared dead, and this week hasn't exactly started out so well, so why don't you let Teal'c and I handle it?" O'Neill sounds so reasonable when he puts it that way.

"Well, we ain't leaving if they aren't!" Thug number one declares.

"You'll either leave, or I'll call the police," the short guy says authoritatively.

"I think he's serious," Stan says taking another drink of his beer. In the background, people were starting to talk again. It looked like there would be no fight today.

"I think you're right."

"Still, it would be cool to see the Jaffa kick some ass."

"Shhh!" Mario hissed. "You can't say things like that here."

"Right," Stan hummphed, "like anyone is paying us any attention what so ever." Mario had to admit the guy was right.

"Still.." He ordered two more beers and turned back to see how O'Neill and Jackson were doing. Apparently the short guy had won, and the six guys were grudgingly leaving the bar.

"And don't you dare hang around outside!" he called after them. "I won't stand for that kind of crap in my bar!"

"I knew I liked this place," O'Neill said as he sat down at **their** table.

"Does this often happen, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked seriously.

"Have you ever seen him smile?" Mario asked.

"The Jaffa?" Stan asked.

"Would you cut that out!"

"No, I haven't seen Teal'c the Alien from Chulak smile," Stan said. Smiling.

"We're so dead," Mario said, certain O'Neill and the others had heard.

"Well, that was fun," O'Neill said finally as he picked up his beer.

Jackson gave him an impatient look. "For some values of fun. You don't think that was a little childish, Jack?"

"Hey, we didn't start it," O'Neill said. "Even the owner recognized that it wasn't our fault."

"We could have taken them," Jackson said darkly.

"Next time, Daniel," O'Neill conceded. "You can beat up the bad bullies _next_ time."

Mario snickered into his beer. "The things the Colonel has to put up with," he said.

"Ah, Jackson is all right," Stan said. "After all, there really aren't too many guys I know who can die one day and show up the next."

"Very true," Mario agreed, nodding. Both realized they were probably saying things they shouldn't, but as Stan had pointed out earlier, who was listening? The drinking and talking continued, until almost all memories of 'what's her name' were erased and the talk turned back towards Senior Airman Teresa Ripley.

"So, you gonna ask her out?" Stan asked interestedly.

Mario winced, "Maybe next week, mano. When the first impression has had time to fade a little."

"I don't think she'll have forgotten you by next week," Stan said helpfully, taking another swallow of the current beer. It belatedly occurred to him that after spending three days at work, getting drunk before going home was not necessarily the best strategy.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Mario said gloomily. Married guys. They so friggin' gloated.

The pair was several sheets to the wind before finally asking the bartender to call them a cab. Margie was waiting after all and Stan could always come back later for his truck. He was pretty sure a place like this had its share of overnight vehicles. They were just settling their tab when they heard a snippet of conversation coming from O'Neill and his team.

"So what'd you think of the place, T'?" O'Neill said as he stood up and looped one of Jackson's arms around his shoulders. Jackson muttered something in a weird language but didn't fall over.

"Lightweight," Stan snickered.

"The 'Guinness' was satisfactory," Teal'c declared magnanimously. "But I did not care for the 'Bud'."

"That's 'Bud', T'," O'Neill explained as he threw several bills on the table and helped Jackson to the door.

"I thought 'Bud' was what two warriors said in greeting?"

"T', we have got to get you a colloquial dictionary," O'Neill muttered as he awkwardly maneuvered Jackson through the door. He never saw Teal'c's eyebrow go up at the word 'colloquial'.

"Indeed," Teal'c answered following the men out.

"I wanna learn to do the eyebrow thing!" Mario said tipsily as he headed towards the door.

"I'll give you five bucks if you do it in front of the Jaffa!"

"No fucking way, man," Mario said as they exited the building. "I might be drunk, but I do value my life."


End file.
